


rassembler les boutons de rose

by CampionSayn



Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Slice of Life, an unstoppable force meets an immovable object, post-Episode: s03e17 Flynnposter, still pissed that Lance didn't get a focus episode so I have to make do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24395761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CampionSayn/pseuds/CampionSayn
Summary: "You're not gonna kill me?"
Relationships: Lance Strongbow & Varian
Comments: 18
Kudos: 48





	rassembler les boutons de rose

"If you want something, state your business so you can leave."  
  
The splashes of soot weren't as prominent as the night of the explosion, having doubtless been wiped at ad infinitum over the night and into the next evening, but the base of color was still there. Probably because of how close Varian was to the blast radius, the force of the explosion binding debris into the tight weave of his skin, and how pale he was on any given day.  
  
Now Lance really felt guilty, ducking his head down like a shamed puppy and tightening his hold on the wicker basket he'd borrowed from the palace.  
  
"Er, I um, came to offer to do your laundry with my own? It's probably all filthy from the other night and it'll likely come out easier in the palace laundry than here. There's more room to beat it and more tools to work with."  
  
Varian, while no longer looking angry as he crossed his arms and looked into the basket already full of the pieces of the Captain's uniform Lance had been wearing--all of them smelling almost exactly like his own bundled up in the corner of his lab so his dad wouldn't ask questions--still gave Lance a look he'd not been hoping for. Completely unimpressed.  
  
"Okay, I'll bite. Why exactly do you think I would ever bother with normal cleaning solutions when I've actually cleaned almost the entire _palace_ with my alchemy?"  
  
The blank expression spoke volumes.  
  
Honestly, that stung a little.  
  
"...I take it Cass never talked about the Science Expo while you guys were gone for a year."  
  
"Cass was at the Science Expo?"  
  
And now Varian looked like a puppy. A kicked puppy; not something Lance had been aiming for when he went to apologize that evening.  
  
His shoulders sagged and he practically drooped when he uncrossed his arms and waved towards the carriage Lance had arrived in, "Forget it. Since you're offering the use of the palace laundry, I might as well grab all our stuff and clean it in bulk. You as an extra pair of hands should make the folding easier, anyway."  
  
"Uh," Lance intoned, a little worried now as Varian seemed to be trying to shake off the sudden dour mood that was a huge difference from his righteous anger; the difference from a blistering summer heat to black clouds covering a land in grey with rain always a moment away from bleeding out.  
  
"Just wait in the carriage, I'll be down in ten."  
  


* * *

Down in ten and differently dressed; plain black leggings and an over sized beige tunic shirt that made him look a little older, what with his wiry muscles and scars from all of his life's difficulties visible to the eye. No gloves and no shoes, but a wheelbarrow full of laundry brought to the carriage twice, waving Lance off when he offered to help.  
  
Lance didn't like the little stoop he had and some visible bruising on his shoulders that were probably due to the explosion, but he remained seated; giving a nervous little grimace when the raccoon took a seat in the back and Varian tacked up a note for his father telling him where he'd be.  
  
The ride from Old Corona to the palace was especially more quiet than Lance had anticipated, even with Ruddiger tagging along to keep company and chittering at the both of them when that quiet was too great (intelligent little thing that he was, could definitely read the mood).  
  
But at least when they got to the laundry the silence was replaced with Varian being a little more perked up in being given the opportunity to boss Lance around a little.  
  
Not a lot, because he was still in A Mood, but enough that Lance only made a _show_ of complaining. Made all the more believable with his arms loaded down with the clothing and linens hiding the bottom half of his face.  
  
"Why do the colors and the whites even _need_ to be separated, and then the braies separated again?"  
  
Varian rolled his eyes like he was being asked why the sky was blue, taking a small collection of little violet balls from the satchel he'd brought along due to his usual alchemy clothing being in the wash before them.  
  
"Because I don't want the dye from one bleeding into the other, and undergarments have a way of tearing apart if I use the usual mixture with the other lot. Put the trousers and shirts in the largest barrel," he pointed, tossing two of the balls into the so-called barrel (big enough that a pair of ten year aged children could use it for swimming with ease) and slipping his free hand in to swish the water around until the liquid was bright with pink fizz and smelled not unlike cinnamon and lemongrass, "We'll have to leave this to set like most of the others."  
  
Three balls into another barrel filled with the bedroom laundry, two large green balls making a splash with the water turning almost instantly (smelling of bluebells and freesia) where Lance had already put the underclothes that he made a point to avert his eyes from.  
  
After he did as he was told, breathing in the mixture like he was in a water garden he'd once snuck into with Eugene when they still worked under the Baron, Lance eased back so his spine popped and found himself with Varian right next to him, arms full of his and Lance's explosion blighted clothing.  
  
Lance practically pinwheeled to keep from falling ass back into the undergarments, but found quick fingers snatching at his vest and bringing him back forward just enough that he swayed and then found himself being dragged over to a much smaller barrel, untouched but filled with boiling water that raised steam into the air.  
  
"Now this, on the other hand," and there was that tone Lance had almost been missing since he'd knocked on Varian's door, exasperated but entirely sure of himself in the situation, completely unafraid, "will actually require some _effort_ on our part. Flynnoleum in liquid form is bad enough, but once it combines with other chemicals, heats up and is expelled at high velocity through the air it's almost impossible to get out."  
  
"So, this isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened and you're not gonna kill me?"  
  
"Correct and," he dumped the stained laundry into the boiled water, adding in the tiniest little balls of bright yellow that brought Ruddiger out from where he was sleeping on the window, using Lance as a seat and breathing in the apple scent that followed the bubbling of unfathomable purple, "If I was going to kill you, I would have done it last night."  
  
"So why didn't you?" Lance goaded a little, reaching to start in on the clothes, but Varian smacked his wrist, handing him a large wooden spoon that looked like it belonged in a children's book; he grabbed his own and started stirring counter-clockwise, motioning for Lance to follow his lead. The laundry swirled, steam rising up in long tendrils and making Ruddiger practically purr as he made himself comfortable as a living scarf around his neck.  
  
Lance had to fight every urge he had not to squeal like he was five and give the raccoon all the scritches and cuddles in the world.  
  
"For one thing you were deaf, and it wouldn't have been a fair fight. Also, you were acting Captain at the time. Thirdly," he paused, grinning with all of his teeth, "I'll get you back. Eventually."  
  
"...I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't care."  
  
"Come on, man."  
  
"Can't hear you over the sounds of plotting my vengeance."  
  
Ruddiger chirped and patted Lance on the head, at least making a show of feigning sympathy.  
  


* * *

  
  
"You are a grown man."  
  
"I'm as old as I want to be," Lance corrected but refused to move from where Varian had almost instantly dried all the bed linens in a pile on a clean patch of floor; lying atop the crisp sheets and blankets like an over-sized house cat, absorbing the heat and breathing in lungful after lungful of the most fantastic smell, "And I think I'm gonna be the age you're supposed to be right now. So, like, twelve."  
  
(He'd have to tell the handmaidens later as that clean 'patch' was basically the entire laundry and out into the hallway; it appeared the alchemist got bored so easily that tossing about his alchemy marbles while the boiling water cooled off was a little like Lance watching some childhood dream the nuns had told him about. A tiny little elf or fairy that messed things about or did favors for anyone who did or said things, good or ill, when nobody was looking. Varian more than certainly fit the part, and if he wasn't already a little irked at just being in the palace, Lance would probably have ribbed him about it.)  
  
Varian took his moment of bliss and comfort to make a squeaky, indignant noise and drop some more laundry (undergarments, but Lance was beyond caring for propriety when he breathed in again and smelled French Lilacs mixed with the Gardenia smell he was soaking in) over him, like he was trying for a punishment and failing, "I am SIXTEEN. A _late_ sixteen, thank you very much!"  
  
"And yet you're still basically the ideal of any theater's ingénu staff."  
  
He didn't have to look up to know Varian had turned bright red, but he did it anyway.  
  
Also to make sure he didn't smack the other with one of those laundry spoons, but mostly to see his tiny little arms cross, his hackles rise and observe that while the steam from the room had helped him sweat, some of the Flynnoleum blast markings were highly visible.  
  
"You sound like Cassandra."  
  
That...was not what Lance had been aiming for.   
  
Varian continued to flush scarlet, but he seemed to be less indignant than he was mere moments before, instead radiating something like a dark shade of nostalgia that probably made him feel small. And he looked droopy and sad, too.  
  
If the way he took a seat on the floor and started simply folding socks and braies was anything to go by.  
  
 _'Not what I was aiming for.'_  
  
Clearing his throat, Lance sat up and almost slithered out of the pile to sit across from Varian, fishing out some pillow cases and setting them next to the socks.  
  
"I take it that's not a great thing to sound like right now."  
  
Varian shrugged, "It's not the worst thing you could sound like, either. Maybe. I mean, not like she sounds _now_. More like how she sounded _then_. Trying to be nice, but also treating me like a kid, even though I'm not the one in the wrong. The Cassandrium incident all over again."  
  
"...Dare I ask what that even means?"  
  
"That I was a really stupid kid almost two years ago and couldn't read the writing on the wall that Cass was never going to reciprocate any feelings I might have stupidly had; and naming a new element after her wasn't going to do anything except blow up in my stupid face because that stupid judge couldn't keep his stupid hands to himself."  
  
Every enunciated 'stupid' was precipitated by fluffing out the braies he had his hands on and then smacking it against the floor to fold in almost too neat patterns.  
  
"Cass got an element named after her?"  
  
The last of the braies were grabbed in white knuckles, set into their own pile and Lance found bright blue eyes blazing at him.  
  
"This is your focusing point?"  
  
"It's," Lance peddled back as fast as he could, taking the moment to toss Varian's free hands one end of a blanket so they could fold it together, despite the urge to still nestle inside of it, "Not everyday you hear...someone...named something after you! Yeah, yeah, that's, um, really bold. And endearing!"  
  
"Nice save, Lance," he sighed, opinion plain on his face and voice dry as the sands of the desert.  
  
"I also can't help but note that I'm not the only person in your life that messed with one of your experiments."  
  
Ruddiger chirred from his seat at the window, kind of like a warning, but not that either of the humans noticed. Certainly not Lance.  
  
"She didn't mess with it, just the judge. She just kept the Cassandrium and apparently never spoke about it again. Although, this might have contributed to her need to collect shiny things to wear on her person."  
  
"Ooh, sick burn there. Too bad she's not around to hear it."  
  
"Yeah, no, she already kicked my ass," he replied, deflating considerably and helping Lance round up the last of the laundry--including the Flynnoleum stained ones that were dried separately and Lance had the urge to wear just so he could walk around with the Vanilla-Rose smell all day long, "I don't need to try telling her the truth when that went horribly the last time. She didn't listen to me, much like you didn't listen, and it blew up in my face BOTH times. Hate to see how a third time would go."  
  
"Would it make you feel better if I apologized and promised never to touch your stuff again?"  
  
"You're never touching my stuff again no matter what. But I'll take that apology if you really mean it."  
  
"I do," Lance said, looking him directly in the eye and placing a hand on Varian's bony shoulder as the last of the laundry were in their baskets, before they started lifting them to go back to the carriage, "I am sorry, Varian. Not just for not listening, too. Because you could have gotten really hurt with how close you were and if something had happened..."  
  
"You would have tried to make up for it. Like you're doing now. You're a good guy, Lance, and you learned from this. I hope?"  
  
The wry sass that decorated his face, very telling from the tilt of his head and the stretch of his smirk pleased Lance tremendously, so he made a show of faux affront, "Of course I learned from this. I am a gentleman and a scholar. Who is helping you load heavy, sublimely smelling laundry from the the palace to your home. What else is there in life?"  
  
The rumble from his stomach, incredible in taking its cue to humiliate him, answered that readily enough.  
  
"Food and drink, I suppose," Varian grinned, taking Lance's moment to blush as the best diversion to poke at his belly like he was a toddler, "Are you allowed in the palace kitchens, or should we stop by the Snuggly Duckling on the way out of the city?"  
  
"Why wouldn't I be allowed in the kitchens?"  
  
"Because you're a bottomless pit who never seems to put on weight and would doubtless eat the kingdom out of house and home, given the chance."  
  
Lance lifted the hem of his shirt and slapped the toned muscles that put even Eugene to shame most days, the sound gratifying in that it startled the teen and turned the tables in making _him_ blush at the implications there, "Pure fool for pure muscle, little man."  
  
"Put your shirt down!"  
  
"Alright, alright, not everybody can handle raw beauty, I get it."  
  
" _Lance_."  
  
The raccoon climbed up onto Varian's shoulders, patting him on the head as Lance did what he was told, both Lance and Ruddiger insanely amused by the maroon color of Varian's face, but then the growling came back and Lance refused to be the butt of the joke twice in as many minutes.  
  
"To the Snuggly Duckling it is. I get a discount working there, after all."  
  
"You sure the food is edible? I haven't been there since before I went to prison, so I wouldn't know."  
  
"Positive. There is now a perfectly delicious selection of soups, sandwiches, dinner and appetizers to go with more of a drink selection than just alcohol that'll give you rot-gut by the time you're twenty-five. I'm the chef and my standards are much higher than Shorty."  
  
"For which there is infinite thanks to be given, I'm sure."  
  
"You are correct," Lance found himself grinning much wider as Varian nodded at his next statement, "At least I don't think brick hard rolls and _slop_ stand as adequate meal options."  
  
"And at least you don't eat food off the floor or drink goat milk you're bathing in at the _same_ time."  
  
Even Ruddiger gagged at that image, Lance maneuvering the wheelbarrow expertly as Varian held the door and lead the way out of the palace and into evening descending on the skyline and the roads.  
  
  
  
The first star of the evening hung over their heads as the lanterns of the palace and kingdom were lit, awake and promising light even before the moon appeared.

**Author's Note:**

>  _*observes that there are still very few Lance-centric fics in this fandom*_  
>  _*starts banging away at my laptop like I'm hacking at the insides of a freezer with a screwdriver*_  
>  _*can only come up with stuff with Lance and Varian*_  
> ...Man, whatever.
> 
> Not gonna lie, I'm still trying to figure out what dynamic I'm most comfortable with when it comes to Lance and Varian and about the only thing I can say is that I headcanon neither of them do very well with women and probably sit somewhere on the Pan spectrum. 
> 
> Which is also probably why I decided to stick with them during Pride Month. Them and the Brotherhood. Just...fair warning.


End file.
